There was one person in particular I really wanted to see because before he left, we had a great evening sharing about ourselves and he left me a pretty incredible book in my possession that was hard to keep closed. See, this was no ordinary book, this “homemade” book with spiral binding and the cutest title page probably made in Paint program, was a record of his memoirs from when he lived in Africa. It was full of love, lust, triumph, loss, and other emotions that made me reminisce some of my experiences. By the time I finished reading it, I felt like I knew him for ages. Just reading about someone’s vulnerable moments can make a person feel that much closer.
Three times he made it out to Chernigov, the town I live nearby. His first visit was such a mission to get there, being semi-kidnapped by the new friend he made on the bus. The other 2 times were unplanned and they turned out to be quite fun… I got a concert out of the last one. This time it was my turn to go visit him and I’m not going to lie, the thought of travelling on my own to a village an hour away was quite scary.
(Adam on the phone while walkiing to the church) The first attempt….
My mama had called the bus station during the week to ask the times and prices for the bus heading to Kozelets. “The bus will pick you up Sunday at 9:05am and it should be 14 hrevin”, she confirmed. I felt butterflies in my stomach the morning of, “am I seriously taking the bus by myself?” I thought. This whole time when I’ve travelled anywhere (Nizhen, Kiev, Chernigov) it was always in a group. Granted, after getting the hang of the Marshrutka to Chernigov, I’d head into town by myself. But that was only a 15 minute bus ride and I knew exactly where to get off.
So there we were (my mama waited with me), standing at the bus stop 2 minutes to 9am (just in case it arrived early). I was rehearsing in my head how I was going to tell the driver that I needed to be dropped off at the bus station in Kozelets (in Ukraine, sometimes you have to instruct the drivers where you’re going otherwise they’ll drop you off in the middle of nowhere, like Adam told me it happened to him). After chit chatting with my mama for about 10 minutes, I became anxious as to why the bus hadn’t arrived. “Don’t worry, buses usually run late” she said. It was now 9:40am and we saw about 7 buses drive by except the one to Kozelets. Sadly, I called him and Meredith (my old D.C. roommate who happens to be in his cluster) to let them know what had happened. A part of me was quite relieved though because I don’t think I was ready to travel on my own.
The Second attempt…
2 Sundays later (Nov. 21) I attempted to do the same. This time I knew NOT to look for a bus that said Kozelets on it, but Desna, and I had to flag it down to stop for me… seemed like so much work. So there we were (my mama waited with me again) with our eyes peeled for the bus. 9:15a.m. and we could see it coming. Great, in a matter of seconds I’d be sitting on that bus on my way to see Adam and Meredith. Just as it was approaching, the driver decided to speed up and pass up the slow car in front of him… driving right by my mama and I without even glancing our way. Not again!!!
Third time’s a charm…
That same day I acted quickly and told my mama that I was going to head into town to the bus station and buy the next ticket to Kozelets from there. There’s no chance in being left behind at the bus station, unless I was in the bathroom or something. So I did just that and bought the 10:40a.m. bus to Kozelets. I thought everything was smooth from there on, but there was still another task at hand…. Which bus was I supposed to get on? You would think “just look for a bus that says Kozelets”… unfortunately sometimes the buses don’t say the town/village because it makes many stops along the way. So there I was, 40 minutes early asking around which bus was going to Kozelets. Luckily the lady checking the tickets said in RUSSIAN (because even when I ask in Ukrainian, I get responses in Russian) that the next bus to arrive in lane 3 was the bus I needed to take.
Finally, after about an hour long bus ride, the driver granted my request of dropping me off at the bus station in Kozelets. It was a gloomy and sprinkling day but I was excited to be there. I felt victorious travelling by myself and not being shy about asking around where I needed to go. I rather sound silly with my thick accent and ask people for directions rather than winging it and ending up completely lost. A combination of being a gloomy day and Adam recovering from some stomach bug, it was a very chill day. I met his host mama and brother as we ate lunch together. They seem to be very happy with him, which doesn’t surprise me because he’s a great guy. Then after showing me pictures from his trip to Guatemala this past summer (which I enjoyed very much), we met up with Meredith whom I hadn’t seen since she left D.C. back in Sept.
(Meredith and I in front of the Church) After realizing I misread my departure time on my ticket (because apparently I don’t know how to tell military time) we headed back to the house from the cathedral, which by the way was beautiful and one of the largest I’ve seen so far. “You need to play your saxophone for me because that day in the park doesn’t count” I said to him on our walk back to his place.
As soon as we arrived to his house, he whipped out his saxophone and laptop with music he’d play along to. Meredith and I sipped our tea while he played for his mini audience, his host mama and brother included. It’s nice to see someone do what they love so much, and for him it’s to play his saxophone. “Can you dig it?” he says “Yeah I dig it” we say. He makes me love jazz even more, and a bit envious that I can’t play a saxophone. After dedicating the song “a girl from Ipanema” to the Latina in the house, we rushed to put our coats and shoes on to head over to the bus station. I made it in the nick of time, shoes/jeans wet and all from stepping in huge puddles. I gave both of them a big hug and hopped on the bus back to Chernigov/Kolychivka.
As I sat in my seat listening to my new favorite jazz artist Jamie Cullum (compliments of Adam), I thought to myself: If I let fear get the best of me, I’ll miss out on so many great things in life. For example travelling on my own; I didn’t want to do it, but if I hadn’t, I would’ve missed out on such a great day like this day.
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